The Boy Who Said No
by ChoCedric
Summary: AU. When Harry Potter arrives on the Dursleys' doorstep, Petunia vows to do whatever it takes to protect him from the world that destroyed her beloved baby sister. Harry grows up loved by the Dursleys, because they realize he cannot control where he came from. When his Hogwarts acceptance letter arrives, he says no. And the entire world changes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Hello, and welcome to a story that, in my opinion, is begging to be told. I know there have been stories with similar themes out there, but I plan to make mine very different from the ones I've already read. I am also working on two other stories at the moment, but I promise that this one will get as much time and effort put into it as the others do.

Please let me know what you think. In this opening chapter, the way Petunia and Vernon raised Harry will be explained. I hope you enjoy how I made Petunia think very differently in this universe.

The Boy Who Said No

By: ChoCedric

Petunia Dursley sat at her kitchen table, her hands trembling as she stared at a piece of parchment lying in front of her. Her cup of tea, for once, was not calming her down in the slightest; it was the first time in ages that the simple beverage did nothing to ease her constant anxiety. She had barely touched it, and it had therefore gone cold. But Petunia, usually so meticulous and perfect in her habits, did not care.

Her thoughts were going at what seemed like a thousand miles an hour as her unrelenting gaze fixated on that piece of parchment, as if staring at it for long enough would just make it all go away. But it continued to lie there, stubborn and unyielding, and her demons refused to rest. Closing her eyes, Petunia laid her head on the table, an action that would be scorned by her if she saw anyone else doing it.

The parchment had been delivered that afternoon, and even though Petunia had known and dreaded its coming, she was still not prepared for it when it came to pass. To the naked eye, it would look mysterious and intriguing, but to her, it awakened all the bad feelings and memories she possessed.

Her nephew, Harry Potter, had an important birthday coming; he was soon to turn eleven years old. For a small amount of individuals in the country, it was a huge milestone, a new chapter in their story that was about to begin. This was the time that every young witch or wizard received their acceptance letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Petunia felt her heart literally bursting with an enormous amount of mixed emotions as her hands continued to tremble. Oh, how she wished with all her being that the cycle wasn't beginning again. Out of everything that had happened in Petunia Dursley's life, she wanted nothing more than for magic to not exist. If the rest of her days contained nothing but boredom and inanity, she would gladly take it over the sheer terror and uncertainty that shook her to her core now.

An image of Petunia's little sister, Lily, flooded her mind. Dear, sweet little Lily, her baby sister whom she had loved with all of her heart. Her Lily, who she'd have given her entire soul to protect. Shining, gorgeous Lily, who Petunia had treated abominably, resenting her for her talents, her gifts, and her bravery. The last time Petunia had seen her beloved sister she had screamed at her, "Get away from me, freak. I hate you. It's because of you and your unnatural world that our parents are dead. I never want to speak to you again." Lily, tears streaming down her face, whispered endless apologies and had literally begged Petunia's forgiveness, which the bitter, spiteful woman had not granted. Little was she to know that she would never see her sister alive again.

The guilt Petunia felt was never-ending, and when Harry had arrived on her doorstep, it was like a sign from a higher power. She had been granted a second chance, a way of seeking redemption for the vile, soul-crushing things she had said to her baby sister. Because Petunia was now mature enough to know that the blame for their parents' deaths did not lie with Lily. Oh no, Petunia knew exactly whose fault it was. It was the same evil that had killed Lily too, that had snatched her from right under Petunia's nose and ripped the life from her forever.

The wizarding world had changed Lily from the innocent, trusting little girl who used to idolize her older sister, who would follow her around and chant, "Tuney! Tuney!" Petunia had, at the time, been thoroughly annoyed by the nickname, but now, she would give anything to be "Tuney" again. The girl who used to play dress-up, who used to giggle with Tuney on Christmas Eve while they attempted (and failed) to be as quiet as possible while they waited for Santa Claus to arrive, was gone. She had died in a war. She was twenty-one years old, and had died in a war. She belonged to a world that, no matter how many times she had tried to explain it to Petunia, was beyond her understanding. Lily had been sucked into that world, and had grown farther and farther apart from Petunia until she was barely recognizable.

And now, there was no hope for reconciliation, no hope for ever mending fences between them. Because Lily had died for a world she loved, a world who failed to protect her. A world that robbed people like Mr. and Mrs. Evans of their light, and the wizards had the nerve to try and cover it up. After all, those pathetic, difficient Muggles weren't supposed to know anything, were they? Petunia was only given the real facts because she was the sister of a witch. But to everyone else, Mr. and Mrs. Evans died in a gas explosion. Who cared about the truth anyway? Better for the wizards to save their own skins, right? Obviously people didn't deserve to know how their loved ones were murdered, Petunia mused with bitter sarcasm.

The Hogwarts acceptance letter was still sitting innocently on the kitchen table, making Petunia's rage spike to new levels as she thought of what she was about to do, the thing that would be her next step in her path to redemption. She had realized, from the moment that Harry had arrived on her doorstep in the middle of the night with only a letter in his possession, that she must take action. Over the years of raising, nurturing, and loving him, her resolve had only intensified, and her anger and bitterness towards the wizarding world had done the same.

Once upon a time, Petunia Dursley had blamed Lily for circumstances she could not control. It would be so easy, almost too easy, to do the same thing with Harry. She had read the letter that Godforsaken fool, Albus Dumbledore, had placed in the basket along with Harry, and she knew she was potentially saving the boy's life by keeping him with her family. But there was terror there, too, pure and strong, terror that the evil wizard who had snuffed out her baby sister's life would come after the Dursleys, just like he had come after her parents in order to punish Lily. But she couldn't treat Harry like she had treated Lily, could she? Harry was as much a victim of this world as Lily had been.

And she would not let Harry be a real part of that world, and Petunia would do whatever it took. There were truly no words adequate enough to express her loathing for the magical world; it had taken too much from her. Her parents, who she still loved deeply despite their preferential treatment of Lily, parents who had died needlessly in a stupid war they could never really prepare for, and above all, Lily, who she'd vowed to always take care of, Lily who, at the age of six, had had a nightmare and crawled into Petunia's bed, sobbing, and Petunia had said softly, "Don't worry, little sis. There are no monsters here, and even if there were, I would destroy them all for you."

But Petunia had failed. Lily had been harmed by a monster and she wasn't able to destroy it for her. The realization that Lily had destroyed that monster for her own son always brought Petunia to tears. But she could never forgive herself; she was the older sister, and she was supposed to fulfill that simple childhood vow.

But now she had been given another chance. She would destroy the monsters for Harry, because it was the closest she could get to Lily, the way to tell her she was truly sorry, and she needed her forgiveness.

And when the sun rose the next morning, she and Harry would sit down, eat their breakfast, and write a reply. Harry Potter would not be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He would not be part of a world which had expectations of him that were nothing short of cruel. They worshiped him, idolized him, and fawned all over him for a deed which, at one year old, was entirely impossible for him to perform. Petunia would not allow Harry to be sucked into the vortex, because she knew if she did, he would never come out again.

And she would protect her nephew until there was no more breath left in her body. This was a promise she would not break.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Wow. I am astounded. I can't believe what an amazing response the first chapter of this story had. Thank you all so, so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows. You have no idea how much I appreciate them.

This story will have many different subplots and angles, and I love the ideas some of you have given me. Many will definitely be incorporated into this story.

This chapter is from Harry's point of view and describes some of his early life. In future chapters, more detail will be given, and in the one after this, you will get to meet some of Harry's Muggle friends, and get to know more about his interests.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter of background information. I assure you that in future updates, there will be a lot more plot and action.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Yawning widely, Harry Potter got out of bed in his small bedroom at the Dursleys. He wondered briefly if Dudley was up yet; it was a Saturday morning, after all, and his cousin often liked to sleep in later than him on weekends. For some reason, Harry had always been an early riser.

His room might be small, but he was extremely happy with it. It was full of a mishmash of things; in his opinion, it was perfect. His walls were decorated with pictures of his favorite football team, and his shelves had some interesting books on them. Most of them were on a subject he found fascinating. For as long as he could remember, he'd wanted to be a doctor. He figured that this profession would be a good fit for him, but his aunt and uncle always told him it was perfectly okay if he changed his mind. But for now, he was determined to stick to his goal.

What had happened yesterday had only solidified his resolve to stay with his current plans. Right now, he was an average ten-year-old boy who would be turning eleven in a few weeks. Every year, he found his birthday exciting, but there was something profoundly different about this one. Harry didn't approach it with the same level of happiness and anticipation he usually did. And the events of yesterday had made it all too real.

Growing up, his Aunt Petunia had made it known to him exactly what he was, what world he belonged to, and what awaited him if he returned there. He had been told many stories of the wondrous wizarding world, he thought sarcastically. His parents had lost their lives to evil, but he had miraculously survived. The lightning-bolt scar that marred his forehead was a constant reminder of the miracle that had taken place, and from that day forward, he was known as The Boy Who Lived.

Even from an early age, Harry had thought there was a huge wrongness to the moniker. The people that made up the wizarding world thought that somehow, some way, he had brought about the downfall of a wizard so powerful that he had succeeded in killing hundreds of witches, wizards, and Muggles alike. They didn't come to the more obvious conclusion in thinking that one of his parents had performed the deed before they perished at Lord Voldemort's hands. With revulsion pulsing through every syllable, Aunt Petunia explained that the witches and wizards didn't even have the gumption to call him by his name; to them, he was You-Know-Who. Harry had thought this was illogical right from the beginning.

His aunt had told him in no uncertain terms that it had been her sister, and Harry's mother, Lily, who had destroyed the Dark Lord. She had sacrificed her life for him, and in doing so, had given him a very strong magical protection. She had then explained that Harry had been placed on the Dursleys' doorstep with only a letter to explain his appearance. Lily and James were dead, and the Dursleys had only found out through a measly letter. If his relatives took him in, they would be saving Harry's life, because the magical protection Lily gave him would be strongest among family members.

To Harry, the method of communication was appalling. He knew that if a family member was killed in the normal world, the police would come to the house and let the other family members know. God, Albus Dumbledore didn't even have the decency to tell Petunia about her own sister's death in person, and he never, not even in his letter, said anything about a funeral! She never got to bid Lily a final goodbye, or even see the place where she had lived. She was only a Muggle, after all. She wasn't one of the "special" people.

And the other thing that appalled Harry to no end was the fact that Petunia and Vernon were not even asked whether they wanted to keep Harry. Petunia had reassured him that she had never regretted her decision to do so, but Harry agreed that this was beyond stupid. After all, what did the wizards know of the Dursleys' situation? They had no idea whether there was room in the house for another child, or what their financial situation was like. The Dursleys received no money for his upkeep; it was just assumed that they would accept him with open arms.

And to their credit, they had. Aunt Petunia had stressed to him that none of this was his fault, and she would not take out her loathing of all things magical on an innocent child, because he had nothing to do with anything. Harry would blush furiously whenever Aunt Petunia would say things like this, and her response was to ruffle his hair and tell him she loved him.

Whenever she spoke of Lily, she would always get a faraway, distant look in her eyes, and there was always an ocean of guilt and regret in her tone. Harry had so many questions he longed to ask, but for his aunt's sake, he steered clear of most of them. He yearned to know more about his father, James, but whenever the subject was broached, Petunia would go rigid with suppressed anger. She told Harry that James Potter was a good man who had adored both him and his mother, but the words always seemed like they were forced out. It was plain to see that the woman still wrestled with unresolved demons when it came to James. Harry oftentimes wondered if the reason for her hatred of James was because he sucked Lily further into the magical world, although he would never dare ask such a thing.

If that was the reason for Petunia barely mentioning James, though, Harry couldn't entirely blame her, and this caused him an immense amount of guilt. Some nights, he would awaken with a jolt from a nightmare of screaming, green light, and a sharp pain on his forehead, and he knew this wasn't something normal boys dreamed about. He would then become furiously angry. He knew his aunt, uncle, and cousin loved him, but he wished his parents weren't just stories and pictures. He wished they were a reality, and he wondered why they had abandoned him. But then, the guilt would surface; his mother had sacrificed her life for him because she loved him so much.

But, on the whole, Harry was happy. He got up to normal things like going to school, making friends, and trying to keep his grades up. Sometimes the Dursleys would take holidays, and Harry would enjoy them thoroughly, although he sometimes got the feeling there were eyes on his back. He had an inkling as to who they belonged to, from the stories his aunt told,but he refused to let this ruin the time he spent with his family.

He and his cousin, Dudley, got along very well. They were more like siblings than cousins, and had made some of the same friends. They fought at times, but what siblings didn't? Their fights were never for long, and in hindsight, they were always over something really stupid. Within hours, or sometimes even minutes, they would be the best of friends again.

As Harry went downstairs, both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon greeted him. "Did you sleep well?" asked Petunia, looking at him critically. Harry could tell that in her case, the answer was no; she looked exhausted, and there were lines of visible stress around her mouth.

"Yeah, I slept okay," Harry lied, but he knew his aunt wouldn't be fooled. He had had trouble last night too, and he reckoned it was for the same reason. The reason was lying on the breakfast table.

Aunt Petunia said nothing in response; she just looked at him, not fooled for an instant. However, she was nice enough not to point it out.

"Is Dudley not up yet?" asked Uncle Vernon, biting into a mouthful of sausages.

"Nah," said Harry, tucking into his own breakfast. The Dursleys always made sure he and Dudley had a good amount to eat, although they never let them eat more than their appetites called for,.

Vernon chuckled. "Atta boy," he said with a smirk. "He's his father's son, you know."

Silence then surrounded the table as the meal continued. Nobody wanted to discuss the letter, or elephant as it were, in the room, and this suited Harry just fine.

After breakfast, Harry took his dish to the sink, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher. He complained about it at times like any normal boy would, but he was usually okay with doing his share of household chores. He was grateful, however, that his relatives gave Dudley an equal amount of them. When the two did chores together, it was always more pleasant, and they were done a lot quicker.

After he was finished, Harry sat back down at the table. This was Uncle Vernon's cue to leave and go into the living room to watch telivision.

Growing up, Harry knew his uncle loved him, but he also knew that magic should stay out of any discussions between them. Aunt Petunia left all wizarding topics alone unless she and Harry were by themselves. Vernon was always disconcerted by magic, because it threw everything in his world off-kilter. Harry had come to accept this unspoken rule, and obeyed it to the letter.

Dudley wasn't averse to talking about it, but he often followed Uncle Vernon's lead and disappeared whenever the subject was brought up. He had learned enough to know, however, that Harry wanted no part of it. Both Harry and Dudley made sure to make no mention of it around any of their friends, either. For all intents and purposes, magic did not exist in their friendship circle.

But as Harry sat down at the table beside his aunt, his heart filled with dread. He was about to write a very defining letter which would send shockwaves through the heart of the wizarding world. He would explain, in no uncertain terms, that Harry Potter, the so-called Boy Who Lived, wanted no part of a wizarding education. He wanted to grow up to be a doctor, and above all, didn't want to leave his family behind forever. They loved him, and in turn, he loved them equally. He knew his parents loved him too, but he didn't want to end up like them, either - dead before he really got the chance to live.

But he knew, as he picked up a pen and began to write his reply, that the wizarding world wouldn't accept that he would soon become The Boy Who Said No. They would try and convince him to be sucked into their philosophies and their world, but he vowed he wouldn't budge. The only problem was: how far were they willing to go to convince him?

He also wondered if there was any way to stop the magic that he was already performing. Only weeks ago, he'd become enraged at something one of his classmates had said to Dudley, and, without conscious control, Harry had made him literally stop talking. The boy, Rick, had stared at him in horror, and his mouth moved soundlessly as he tried and failed to speak.

The spell had been broken in about a minute, but from that moment on, Rick was terrified of Harry. He told his other friends about it, but thankfully, not many believed him - they laughed, thinking Rick just had a wild imagination. But Harry knew this wasn't the case, and he hated it with an endless passion.

These kinds of incidents had occurred more and more frequently as the years passed, and it was getting harder and harder to explain them away. Harry refused point-blank to be a part of the wizarding world, but he worried that if these incidents, which Aunt Petunia called accidental magic, didn't stop, there would be more problems than the Dursleys could afford.

It was a blind man's hope, but all he could wish for was that he would say no, the wizards could get rid of his magic, and they'd leave him alone to lead a normal life, one that was free of expectations, Dark Lords, war, and death. But as his pen flew across the paper under his aunt's watchful eye, he could sense, with a sinking heart, that this was too much to ask for. The wizarding world would never be done with the famous Harry Potter, even if he was The Boy Who Said No.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello everyone. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, and I wish every one of you a happy new year. I hope you enjoyed the start to 2019.

Thank you so, so much for the amazing reviews. As the story goes on, you will receive answers to your questions, such as who the magical world will send to convince Harry to attend Hogwarts. I also love all your comments and suggestions, and I promise that you will see a lot of old favorites enter the story at some point.

As for bashing, I hope that none of you feel there's too much of it. Obviously, because of Petunia's mindset and his own evaluation, Harry thinks very badly of the wizarding world at the moment. But I also hope to offer other views of it when other characters come into the tale, and Harry will have a lot of thinking to do. I really hope you enjoy the direction I take this story.

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter!

Xxxxxxxxxx

Dear Professor McGonagall:

I am writing to inform you that I have received my acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I am aware that because of my supposed role in ending the war against Voldemort, you think it highly important that I return to the wizarding world in order to begin my magical education. I have been told that my parents were a great witch and wizard, and my name has been down for Hogwarts since the day I was born.

However, I must decline your invitation. I don't want to leave my aunt, uncle, and cousin behind to enter a world where I am worshiped and idolized for something I don't remember, and I very much doubt I even accomplished. I have plans for my future that do not involve war and death, and I refuse to enter a world that will separate me from normal people.

Furthermore, if there is any way for me to get rid of my magic, I would really appreciate it. I don't wish to have any more to do with the wizarding world. Professor, my answer is no.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Satisfied with his response, Harry put down his pen and breathed out a sigh. After some coaching from his Aunt Petunia on what exactly he should say, he thought his letter was well done, even if he did say so himself. When he showed it to Aunt Petunia, she agreed wholeheartedly.

As Petunia put the letter in an envelope and sealed it, Harry imagined the gobsmacked expression on McGonagall's face when she received it. After all, how could Harry Potter, of all people, not want to take his place in the wizarding world? Why would someone as beloved and renowned as him want to stay in the dull, boring Muggle world when there was magic, mayhem, and murder to contend with? Who would want to learn to be a doctor when they could defeat a Dark Lord?

Once Aunt Petunia had sealed the envelope, she reached across the table and patted Harry's shoulder. "I am sorry, Harry," she said softly. "I'm really sorry you have to deal with this."

"It's not your fault, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied just as quietly. "Do you think they'll listen to me, though?" he asked, already getting a feeling as to what the answer would be.

His aunt looked at him with cloudy eyes. "Unfortunately, Harry, I don't think they will," she responded, her voice still soft. Rubbing his shoulder gently, she went on, "However, I refuse to allow you to worry about it. I'm going to keep you safe. I won't let them force you into something you don't want to do."

Harry managed a smile for his aunt. Despite her strong words, he knew she was frightened for him. Suddenly needing more reassurance, he asked, "Do you think Mum and Dad would be proud of me?"

Since Harry had found out about the fate that befell his parents, he had been certain that he didn't want to become a part of the magical world. But deep inside him, in a part of his mind he rarely wanted to acknowledge, he worried that his parents would be disappointed in him. But Aunt Petunia had always convinced him of one thing, and it was this that she said again to him now.

"All your parents wanted, sweetheart," she said, and though Harry tried not to show it, he was secretly glad for her affection, "was for you to live. They fought for you, and I know that no matter what you do with your life, they could never be disappointed in you. They loved you, Harry."

Harry let out an inaudible sigh, his heart lightening at the certainty in her tone. Despite Petunia's bitterness towards the wizarding world, and despite the fact that she had hated the choices his parents had made, she knew that they had adored Harry and would do anything for him, and they had proved that by making the ultimate sacrifice. Harry, now more firm and unwavering in his decision than ever before, gave his aunt a smile of sincere gratitude. "Thanks," he murmured quietly. The two locked eyes for a few seconds, and then Harry asked, "Are you sure McGonagall will receive it, since we don't have an owl?"

This was yet another thing that Harry could make no sense of. Upon receiving the acceptance letter, there had been no instructions given as to how to procure an owl. The missive had specifically asked for him to send one in response to his invitation. He and Aunt Petunia had immediately been suspicious of this; were the wizards expecting him not to respond? Aunt Petunia had told him that there was no way they would ever accept no reply from him.

But yesterday, she had explained to Harry that she was positive that his letter of refusal would still be received. She hadn't gone into much detail, but she had informed him that when she was younger, she and Headmaster Dumbledore had exchanged correspondance right after Lily had had the wizarding world explained to her. Apparently, there were wizards scattered around the Muggle world, working in the post offices. She hadn't elaborated on what the letters were about, but Harry, realizing his aunt's distress over the topic, respected her wish and didn't pry.

"I have no doubt it will be received," she replied now. "I'll just put McGonagall's name and address on the envelope. Now," she said, looking her nephew directly in the eye. "Go on and enjoy the rest of your day. Whatever happens, you have a family who will always support you."

"Thanks," said Harry, an embarrassed flush creeping over his face, but very appreciative all the same. A warm feeling enveloped him at the fierce protectiveness Petunia always displayed. He had never had any doubt that he was loved.

Xxx

"Hey, mates," Cliff Daniels grinned as he opened the door to his home. Harry and Dudley, grinning back, gladly entered. The summer heat was beginning to make itself known, and it had taken them twenty minutes to walk over here.

"Hey, Cliff," Harry said, happy to see one of his best mates. Dudley was Cliff's friend as well, and the three of them had shared countless classes together at their school.

Cliff lifted his index finger, waving it jokingly at Dudley. "You know, you two are the last to arrive, and I know it's your fault," he teased. "Harry's told me all about your sleeping habits, you lazy tosser. Can't ever get up at a reasonable time, can you?" He turned to Harry. "You're too nice to him, mate," he went on. "There isn't a law that says you have to wait for him before coming here."

"Cliff, must you always give them a hard time?" Mrs. Daniels had come to the door and smiled at both boys, her eyes twinkling. Cliff pouted at her, causing Harry and Dudley to smirk at their friend. "The others are in the living room watching TV," she added.

Harry nodded at her, and he, Cliff, and Dudley walked into the living room, where two more boys sat on a sofa, their eyes gazing at a large telivision screen. They looked at the new arrivals, and one of them, Robert Simmons, instantly got up off the sofa, hopping up and down on the spot. "It's about time you got here," he said, his face screwed up in annoyance. "We're supposed to be playing outside, you know."

"Yeah," piped up Matthew Woods, the other boy. "These shows are boring. Why isn't there anything interesting on these days?"

"That's not true, and you know it!" protested Dudley, outraged. "I wanna watch them!"

Harry disagreed with Dudley on this; he thought the same as Robert and Matthew that the shows on TV were definitely not attention-grabbing. But he would also much rather stay inside than go out in the summer heat again. He couldn't deny that he liked kicking a ball around and goofing off with his friends, but sweltering heat never agreed with him. He knew the same went for Dudley, although he was usually more amenable to fighting through it except for times like now, when he was riveted by the images and sounds that played out accross the large screen.

The boys bickered amongst themselves for a minute, but they stopped when Mrs. Daniels entered the room and placed a tray of warm biscuits on the coffee table. As they grinned and helped themselves, she hid a smile as she left them to munch on their snacks. "Boys," she muttered fondly, and Dudley snickered as she returned to the kitchen.

After a while, Robert and Matthew convinced Harry and Dudley to wander outside. They ended up enjoying themselves despite the heat. Matthew and Robert were such a distraction that it wasn't so bad, after all.

And as Harry Potter had fun with his cousin and his friends, he fervently wished that things could stay like this forever. After all, this was what normal eleven-year-old boys got up to. They bickered over TV shows, mock-wrestled with each other, and exchanged teasing remarks, but knew that their friendship was still intact at the end of the day.

But no matter how much he tried to deny it, Harry knew it couldn't last. The world which he'd made for himself would be intruded upon, and he would be pushed to his limits. But as the boys continued their day of fun, he knew one thing for sure.

At the end of it all, he would never forget who he was and what he believed. He just hoped, beyond anything, that it would be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Hello, and thank you for the reviews. This is the part you've all been waiting for: we get to see Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore's reaction to Harry's saying no. The following chapter will be the actual confrontation between Harry, the Dursleys, and the person I'm going to send to their home. At the end of the chapter, you'll realize who it is.

Please enjoy!

Xxxxxxxxxx

Professor Minerva McGonagall sat in her office, a stack of letters in her hand. She sipped the cup of tea in front of her, contemplating the fact that once again, summer was almost over. Very soon, the school year would begin anew, bringing with it a new batch of first-years from all walks of life. Some had been raised by Muggles and had only just received the news that they could perform magic, while to others, going to Hogwarts was the norm; they'd grown up with magic their entire lives.

As Deputy Headmistress, it was McGonagall's job to go through all the letters and discover who had accepted their invitation. As she went through the stack, there were many yes's in the pile, even from Muggle-borns whose families were often wary in sending their children to a world they really didn't understand.

Minerva also knew that this year would be different from all the rest that had passed. After all, this was the year when Harry Potter would come to Hogwarts and begin his magical education. Even almost ten years later, the loss of Lily and James still hurt her tremendously, and how could it not? They had been her prized students, and had been cruelly cut down in the prime of their lives. Looking back, she had never understood why Albus, on that night, had asked her why she wasn't celebrating the defeat of Voldemort. He hadn't seemed to grasp that the cost of his defeat had been two precious, young lives.

And it had been Harry, that tiny baby with the bright smile and joyful laugh, that had rid the wizarding world of the reign of terror that had plagued it for what seemed like an eternity. The celebrations had lasted for days, and everyone had been so delighted. But Minerva, and the others who had loved Lily and James so dearly, had been stricken with grief as well.

When Dumbledore had decided to send Harry to his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and their son, Dudley, Minerva had been deeply worried. She had observed the entire family all day on November 1, and did not like what she saw at all. She had begged and pleaded with Albus; she had no doubt there were many wizarding families that would pounce on the opportunity to make Harry Potter a part of their family. Albus, however, had not budged, telling her more than once that it would be best if Harry Potter grew up like a normal child.

But Petunia and Vernon Dursley seemed far from normal, and she wondered what such an upbringing would do to the child. Albus had eventually convinced her, but her conscience never ceased to step in and tell her she'd done something very wrong by not persisting further.

Now, his arrival at Hogwarts was only a few months away, and Minerva would be able to see the results. She knew how the wizarding world viewed him, and wondered how he would adapt to such an environment. Would he be humble and shy, or would he let the fame get to his head? Would he be good at Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, or any of the other subjects Hogwarts taught? Would he remind her more of Lily, James, or neither? Would he end up in Gryffindor like them?

The questions buzzed around in her mind, each conundrum battling for dominance as her eyes landed on one particular letter, which was addressed to her from the Dursleys. She knew that the answers would come before she knew it. And as she opened the envelope, a feeling of almost childlike curiosity and wonder flowed through her. What would it say? Was Harry excited to come to Hogwarts?

Needless to say, as Minerva read through the letter, it seemed as though her entire world was grinding to a halt. After she had finished reading, she simply sat there, gazing fixedly at the piece of paper, unable to believe it.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible. Harry Potter, the Harry Potter, had just said no. Harry Potter was refusing to enter the wizarding world. And, as if that wasn't enough, HARRY POTTER was asking to have his magic removed.

Still unable to wrap her mind around it, Minerva reread the letter twice more, as if the words would change if she kept repeating the action. But they didn't; they stayed exactly the same.

Oh Merlin, what have the Dursleys done to him? Had they brainwashed him into hating magic, and forced him into renouncing it and all that it stood for?

Minerva's thoughts suddenly began to race at breakneck speed. She knew that once this got out to the public, the entire wizarding world would be shaken to its very foundations. They would need their savior to take his place amongst them, and this turn of events, as unfortunate as it was, would lower their morale significantly. Minerva knew this wasn't fair in the slightest, but it was human nature.

And as Minerva picked up the letter and sprinted to Dumbledore's office, she knew that deep down, she was doing the same thing herself. She had never, in her wildest dreams, expected Harry Potter of all people to turn down his place at Hogwarts.

By the time she reached the gargoyle, anger was frothing and bubbling inside of her. She'd known it all along, yet Albus, in his infinite wisdom, had not listened to her. Minerva usually agreed with Albus on many different things, but this had never been one of them. Maybe now, he would see the consequences of his decisions for himself.

Once she had ridden the spiral staircase up to Dumbledore's office, she knocked loudly on the door. She heard voices on the other side, and she recognized them. One was the Headmaster; there was no mistaking his voice. The other one was Charity Burbage, who taught Muggle Studies.

"Come in," said Dumbledore, and Minerva burst into the office, the letter still clutched tightly in her hand. She quickly reached the desk, but instead of greeting Albus warmly like she often did, she threw the letter on the table. "Harry Potter's answer to the acceptance letter," she said in a clipped tone that was very unlike herself.

Albus knew instantly that something was wrong, as did Charity. Albus quickly read the letter, and Minerva watched for any change in his facial expression. When he'd reached the end of the missive, he looked up, meeting Minerva's gaze.

And yes, it was certain that the reply had affected him. His blue eyes, which always seemed to be twinkling, were no longer doing so. His usually smiling mouth was now set in a deep frown. It was plain to see that he had been shocked to his core and for an instant, he didn't have any idea of what to do going forward.

He just sat there silently, which infuriated and angered Minerva beyond belief. "Don't you have anything to say, Headmaster?" she said irately. "I told you that sending him to live with those Muggles wasn't a good idea. They're forcing him not to come to Hogwarts! The boy wants his magic permanently removed! Aren't you going to do anything about this?"

"Now, Minerva," said Charity, and she sounded offended. "Who says his relatives are forcing him into anything? You might not think so, but the wizarding world is not superior to the Muggle one. Muggles have a lot of merit, and in many ways, their world is more sophisticated and advanced than our world is. I've been trying to tell you that for years. And he might just be happy there!"

"But if he doesn't learn magic, the results could be catastrophic!" exclaimed Minerva, doubting the veracity of the other woman's claims but not wanting to debate it at the moment. "And there's no possible way of getting it removed."

"I know this," said Charity sharply. "But we can't force him to come here against his will."

Minerva made a noncommittal noise, still severely mistrusting the belief that the boy hadn't been brainwashed. And, goodness gracious, how could he be happy somewhere he didn't belong? Surely he knew he was different, and wanted to find people who were just like this? Minerva had heard many horror stories of the way some Muggle-borns had grown up; they'd felt ostracized and abnormal in their own homes. When they came to the wizarding world, they would find their niche, and McGonagall had been positive that the same would apply to Harry.

In reply to Charity's statement, Minerva responded, "We won't be forcing him to do anything, Charity. Maybe he doesn't know everything magic can do, and all that it can achieve."

"On the contrary, I wouldn't be surprised if he knows exactly what magic can do, and now he wants no part of any of it," said Charity passionately. "It caused the death of his parents and grandparents, and caused a lot of other destruction in their world. Minerva, you see this with half-bloods all the time. It's not broadcast to the wizarding public like it should be, but I have it on good authority that a lot of children from half-blood families decline their invitation to Hogwarts for the same reasons. Ever since the end of the war, there has been a huge surge in the amount of people who say no."

Minerva had heard inklings of this before, but had put it down to exaggeration. "If that's the case, how do the children control their magic?" she demanded.

"Well, usually, they're taught the essentials by the magical parent," she replied. "You don't have to physically attend Hogwarts to get the basics, you know. That prevents a lot of accidental magic from becoming uncontrollable."

"Be that as it may, Harry is in a different situation," Minerva said pointedly. "And honestly, there have been wars in the Muggle world too. Millions of people died in them. They can be just as inhumane and cruel as You-Know-Who ever was."

"True," Charity conceded. "But Muggles are prevented from understanding our world in a lot of ways. They're made to forget magic ever occurred and are charmed into thinking there's another explanation."

Minerva felt an uncomfortable pit in her stomach. She hated to admit it, but there was a truth in Charity's words which made her squirm. "Something still isn't right with Harry Potter's predicament," she persisted, her eyes boring into those of Albus. The man had stayed silent this entire time while his two staff members had debated on whether or not Harry was happy and fulfilled while living with his relatives. Knowing Albus as well as she did, she knew all too well that under that somber and melancholy mask, he was planning and scheming. How was he going to resolve this?

"Do not fret, Minerva," the Headmaster finally said as he met her fierce gaze. "This situation will be resolved. I am sure that with a little persuasion, Harry Potter will find his place at our school."

"He'd better not have been mistreated," said Minerva, a rush of fury engulfing her as her mind replayed several of the horror stories she'd heard of how Muggle parents treated their wizarding offspring. One of them had involved an exorcist.

"For God's sake, Minerva," said Charity in a voice just as fierce. Turning to Albus, she went on, "I wish you wouldn't interfere with that poor child. Allow him to live the life he wants to. Please don't do the very thing Minerva thinks his aunt and uncle did - don't you force him to come here against his will. I have never understood this world's expectations of him. Lord almighty, he's just a boy."

And with one last furious look at Minerva and Albus, Charity got out of her chair and stormed out of the office, leaving both other occupants shocked by her attitude.

Minerva got up too, because she was unable to look at Albus anymore. Visions of what that poor child could be going through flashed through her mind. She didn't think for one second that Harry could be happy amongst the people who, when she had observed them in her cat Animagus form, were the worst sort of Muggles. It couldn't be possible that they'd truly had a change of heart and were treating him decently, could it?

"You sort this out right now," she said in a whisper as she turned on her heel and strode out of the office. If he didn't get this situation under control, Minerva knew she would never regard Albus the same way again.

And that, she knew with certainty.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Wow, you guys are so unbelievably awesome. Thank you so much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. I absolutely love all your ideas for where this story could go, and there are definitely some that appeal to me greatly. Some of you have a very good idea of where this story will go.

In regards to how the Statute of Secrecy could be broken, I have this hilarious image in my head of what could happen in this day and age. The wizarding world, as it stands now, could not be a secret in the year 2019, and I'll give you two words as to why.

Social media.

If someone did magic and posted it on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, what are the Obliviators going to do? Wipe the memories of every single person who saw it? No way. That would be impossible. Even if they all had Timeturners there'd be no way to reach everyone. I absolutely adore the wizarding world, but in this day and age the Statute of Secrecy would be completely implausible. The image of the Obliviators running around like chickens with their heads cut off makes me laugh hysterically every. Single. Time.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Here it is folks, the confrontation between Harry and Dumbledore, with some Petunia, Dudley, and Vernon sprinkled in as well.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry arrived back on Privet Drive, happy and fulfilled after a great day with Dudley, Cliff, Robert, and Matthew. After playing outside for a while, they had walked to the local store and bought some ice cream, which they had thoroughly enjoyed. They had then gone to the bowling alley for the afternoon. Harry wasn't at all good at the sport, and was ribbed mercilessly by his cousin and his friends for it, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. After all, he gave as good as he got, and he was used to the lighthearted banter he and his friends shared. Bowling had been followed up by a delicious home-cooked meal, courtesy of Mrs. Daniels. She told them she was happy to have them all around - Mr. Daniels was on a business trip, and she wanted the house to still be lively. Cliff had rolled his eyes and quipped, "Aren't I enough for you?" Much teasing and laughter had followed this statement.

Yes, Harry had indeed had a good day. But as he and Dudley walked home, a feeling of foreboding suddenly washed over him. During the time with his friends, he'd been able to keep anything to do with magic and Hogwarts out of his mind, but now, it came back with a vengeance.

Had his letter been received? What had the reactions to it been? These were questions Harry could already guess the answers to. And he knew that once they started in on him, they would be relentless. Aunt Petunia had described them as a pack of vultures who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. As these thoughts swam through Harry's mind, he dreaded his arrival home, and this angered him - he had always felt safe at Number Four, Privet Drive, and now that security was being threatened.

As they neared the door to the house, Dudley patted his shoulder awkwardly, but didn't say anything. Harry gave him a brief smile; even though nothing was said, Harry knew this was Dudley's way of reassuring him that he was on his side, and it was a gesture very much appreciated. Dudley had an inkling of what was going on; after all, Harry had told him the basics as they walked to Cliff's this morning.

Harry took out his house key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and opened it. As he and Dudley walked inside, the feeling of foreboding only increased. He could hear voices coming from the living room. Vernon sounded furious, Petunia sounded close to tears, and then there was another voice, a deeper one which was attempting to sound soothing.

Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Harry marched into the room, Dudley at his side. Harry's feeling of gratitude towards his cousin increased - he wouldn't have blamed him if he high-tailed it upstairs, not wanting to be a part of this discussion. But Dudley was willing to stand up for Harry, no matter what this wizard tried to do.

As Harry entered the room, the first thing he noticed was Uncle Vernon. He was shaking with rage, and his entire face had gone purple, a vein throbbing in his neck. Harry had only seen his uncle this furious on a few occasions, and no one wanted to cross him when he was in this state. Harry's gaze then turned to Petunia, who was indeed trying to keep her composure.

But what held his attention the most was the old man who had made himself comfortable on a squashy armchair, treating their living room like it was his. He almost looked like a king on a throne, and the armchair he sat in was not one owned by the Dursleys. Where had he gotten it from? Why had he brought his own furniture into the house? Better yet, where was the comfy armchair Dudley always sat in to watch TV?

Petunia and Vernon had drilled it into Harry and Dudley's minds to be respectful to adults when they spoke to them, but for a moment, Harry forgot his manners as he stared at the man with the long, white beard. He was wearing a very extravagant-looking hat, and his shirt had an array of moons and stars on it. Show-off, Harry thought mutinously as he took stock of the man's relaxed posture, as if he didn't have a care in the world and hadn't just interrupted a normal family's day. "Who are you?" Harry demanded, past caring that his tone was rude. But it seemed as though his aunt and uncle didn't care, either; they didn't reprimand him or even give him a disapproving look.

"Hello, Harry," said the old man. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of Hog..."

"I know who you are now," Harry interrupted, feeling adrenaline surge through him. "What did you do with Dudley's chair?"

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore asked in a bewildered tone, surprised at the harsh question being leveled at him.

"Dudley's chair," Harry said, not budging an inch. "You did something to it."

"Oh," Dumbledore said, instantly standing up. "I apologize." Removing a stick from his pocket which Harry knew with dread to be a wand, he waved it at the chair. It transformed back into the one Harry remembered, looking as though it had never been changed.

"Now, I will have no more of that in this house," Vernon suddenly roared in fury, the vein in his neck still pulsing. "You are an inconsiderate, good-for-nothing fool. My wife and I told you you couldn't come into this house, and you disobeyed our express wishes and came in anyway. Then you decide our furniture isn't good enough for you, and have to change it into your own rubbish."

"I apologize, Vernon," Dumbledore said in a placating tone. "I did not realize any of this would be so offensive to you. I only wished to speak with Harry."

"And we told you, he was out with his friends like a normal boy," snapped Aunt Petunia. "We didn't know what exact time he was getting back."

"And it's not like he'd want to talk to you anyway," snorted Vernon with disgust. "Wasn't his letter good enough for you?"

"Ah, the letter," said Dumbledore, and he scrutinized Harry, looking him up and down. Harry noticed that the man's blue eyes were twinkling gently, and he gave off a grandfatherly, kind appearance. If Harry didn't know better, he'd have thought the man meant him no harm.

No, Harry, he told himself sharply, remembering everything Aunt Petunia had told him about the wizarding world. Don't fall for it. Don't let his talk of magic and wonder pull you away from your family. Your parents died because they lost themselves in this world. Don't ever forget that they wanted you to live.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Harry, his face contorted in a scowl. "Before we get to the letter, it's interesting that you decided to come in person this time. It would have been nice if you'd come yourself to tell my aunt that my parents were dead, instead of just leaving me on the doorstep with a note, you know. Do wizards not know common courtesy?"

A brief look of shock flitted across the old man's face, as if he couldn't believe what had just been said to him. But, as quick as a flash, he seemed to recover himself. "Harry, you must understand that I had to keep you safe," he said imploringly. "You have no idea how much danger you were in at the time."

Harry let out a snort, folding his hands in his lap. "Don't bother, Harry," said Petunia, giving the old man her own contemptuous look. "He already gave us this drivel before you got here."

"It's the truth, Petunia," Dumbledore said in a tone which made it obvious he thought this line of questioning was unreasonable.

Harry, sensing he would get nowhere with this right now but vowing he would someday get to the bottom of it, realized it was time to get to the heart of the matter. "I really don't want to go to Hogwarts. I'm happy here with my family, and I don't want to get mixed up in the reason why my parents died. And the fact that I'm famous is really stupid. I was fifteen months old! I couldn't have defeated Voldemort."

To Dumbledore's credit, he did not flinch at the name. Aunt Petunia had told him that many witches and wizards had a bad reaction to hearing it. Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't subscribe to that, but it still didn't make Harry trust him at all.

"Yes, it was my sister who did," Petunia added, her hands clenched into fists. "Your world is pathetic, thinking that a baby did something like that. Don't they have any sense at all? Forget answering that," she spat venomously.

"Yes, I am aware that it was Lily who accomplished it," said Dumbledore gently, but this only seemed to incense Petunia more.

"Then why does your world believe that it was Harry's doing?" Dudley demanded, speaking for the first time during the confrontation.

"That is an interesting question, Dudley," Dumbledore answered. "Those were terrible times during the First War against Voldemort. Our young Mr. Potter did something that had never been heard of before - he survived the Avada Kedavra, also known as the Killing Curse. He is the only one to this day that has ever been known to live through it. Also, the curse has never backfired on its caster before. When the war ended, the world needed someone to believe in, so they placed all their hopes upon Harry. He became a symbol of faith for everyone."

Harry scowled fiercely at Dumbledore. How ignorant could he possibly be? Did he truly think that this was having any effect on making him come to the wizarding world? Did he think this "symbol to the people" nonsense would guilt-trip him into attending against his will so he could satisfy their hero worship? "I'm not a symbol," he said angrily. "I'm a person."

Dumbledore's expression softened. "I know," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry that the world feels this way. But Harry, it is essential that you take your place amongst the wizarding world. Have you not had instances where you've made things happen by accident, when you've either been scared or angry?"

"Yes," Harry said fiercely. "And I want it removed. Did you not read every word in my letter?"

"Harry, that is an impossibility," Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "There is no way a person's magic can be removed, just like there is no way you can acquire magic if you don't have it."

Petunia's eyes flickered with emotion at this statement, and her expression was full of hostility as she glared at the Headmaster. "How dare you," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Petunia," said Dumbledore, truly sounding remorseful. "I did not mean to rub salt in an old wound."

Harry looked back and forth between his aunt and Dumbledore, and saw out of the corner of his eye that Dudley was doing the same. Harry didn't know what they were referring to, but it currently didn't worry him. "So there's no way to remove my magic?" he said, a brief surge of despair washing over him. He'd suspected this was the case, but didn't want to believe it.

"No, there isn't," said Dumbledore, and unlike other times in the conversation, Harry was sure the old man was telling the truth this time. He knew the Dursleys were feeling exactly how he was, but he vowed this would not change his response in the slightest. "My answer is still no," he said firmly.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding pleading. "Do you have any idea what could happen if you don't learn magic? It will become uncontrollable, and you could wind up hurting someone."

Harry's heart pounded as Dumbledore laid out one of his worst fears. As the incidents of accidental magic had increased in intensity, Harry seriously worried that someone might get hurt.

Dudley immediately jumped to Harry's defense. "Harry's never hurt anyone," he said emphatically. "And he never will."

Aunt Petunia, seeing the look on Harry's face, sent another furious glare in Dumbledore's direction and walked over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Sweetheart," she said softly. "Don't listen to him. He's trying to manipulate you into going."

Harry took some deep breaths, struggling to stay calm. He trusted Aunt Petunia implicitly, and so he believed what she was saying. But he couldn't help the niggling worry inside of him - after all, the incidents were definitely increasing. Aunt Petunia might not be aware of what happened if someone didn't do magic. Lily had said yes to her Hogwarts letter, after all, so hadn't had to deal with any ramifications of not learning it. But Harry was desperate for everything in his world to remain the same. No matter what was used against him, he would not give the old man the satisfaction of knowing how much his words had shaken him.

So, strengthening his resolve, he faced Dumbledore again with even more surety. "I'm not going," he said resolutely. "I told you, no. I want to grow up to be a doctor, not a Dark Lord Killer, thank you very much. I don't want to end up dead at twenty-one, like my parents did. I don't want to leave Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley, or my other friends."

"Harry, I understand you are happy here," said Dumbledore, but Harry somehow didn't think he really understood at all. "But your parents would have wanted this for you. They loved you, Harry, more than their own lives. There is so much you don't know about the magical world. It is a wonderful place full of opportunity, and I promise you, you won't have to grow apart from your family. There's always Christmas and the summertime."

"I know my parents loved me," said Harry, feeling a renewed surge of anger. Dumbledore had somehow known this was one of his insecurities. But he remembered Petunia's reassurance from this morning, that his parents wouldn't be disappointed in his choice not to learn magic, and it was this that gave him the strength to defy Dumbledore. "And the fact that they loved me means they'd want me to live. I doubt they'd want me to die young like them. They'd be proud of me no matter what."

At this, Petunia smiled at Harry, squeezing his shoulder gently. Dudley looked uncomfortable at the emotional turn the conversation had taken, but stayed by Harry's side in silent support nevertheless. Uncle Vernon looked approvingly at his nephew and nodded, to which Harry nodded back.

"Really, Dumbledore," Vernon then snarled, standing up and towering over the old wizard, who was still sitting calmly in the chair. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get out now."

"He's not going to fall for your tricks," said Dudley. "Why can't you accept that he's happy here? Why can't you take no for an answer?"

"Believe me, Dudley, these wizards never can," said Petunia, who looked close to tears again. She turned to Dumbledore. "Do me a favor," she said, her teeth clenched so hard she could barely enunciate the words. "Get. Out."

Sighing deeply, Dumbledore got out of the armchair. "Very well," he said quietly, his voice laced with disappointment. "But Harry, I need you to know that if you change your mind, Hogwarts is here for you. Think about what I said about your magic, and I insist you monitor it in the future."

"Keep dreaming," said Harry sarcastically.

"We said, GET OUT!" Vernon roared, his entire body vibrating.

And without another word, Dumbledore was gone, performing a frightening trick which Petunia called Apparition. The blood drained from Harry's face, and he put his head in his hands.

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley all gathered around him, none of them saying a word but letting Harry know they were all there to support him. Harry's entire body sagged, and the emotional pain, turmoil, and exhaustion swamped him.

This evening's confrontation might be over, but Harry was sure that in the grand scheme of things, this was only the beginning.


End file.
